Gravity
by SeungSeiRan
Summary: Slingshot wars, unsuccessful hook-ups and paper planes do not a romance make. Or so they think. Hwoarang x Julia.


Disclaimer: I wish I owned Tekken but then think of what would happen to poor ickle Xiaoyu…

* * *

In freshman year, they'd barely spoken let alone memorized each other's names. He was too busy trying hard not to confine himself to the common stereotype of a neon-haired punk who didn't border on suicidal tendencies. She was focused on her sole attempt at changing the world, one A grade at a time. Alternative indie rock bands were creeping into the mainstream music charts, skinny jeans were fading out of the limelight and being different was becoming increasingly difficult now that everyone wanted in on the action.

The fact that he still stuck to his guns and listened to death metal was an impressive feat. That too, in an art museum on their annual field trip. The tormented screaming blaring through his headphones had concerned her for a bit. However, she admired him secretly for breaking the monotony. Albeit, at the cost of knowledge which may come in handy if he should ever find himself working at an art-gallery. Not very likely, so maybe he had a point when she overheard him saying he wanted more out of life than a normal education, a mundane job and series of sepia snapshots of what once had been his youth.

To each his, _and her_, own. She had resigned herself to this philosophy for the moment. Live and let live, hope for the best, prepare for the worst.

For sure, there might be a chance that her name would one day mean more than those initials carved on her desk in math class. There might come a time where she'd be more than just a smile in a yearbook or a face remembered for a second in the crowded hallways. Maybe not fame or fortune but a touch of stardust would be just fine. Goodness knows, she wouldn't mind signing her name with a flourish…

If she'd ever pluck enough courage and scrawl it on the ripped backseat of the bus alongside his.

But that driver did have such a nasty temper…

~*~

Come sophomore year, it's time to herald the peer-pressure induced awkwardness that comes with the territory. Such a _pity_ that she'd never had a steady boyfriend, they crowed in a chorus of begrudging sympathy. She replied that she didn't mind and was not yet ready to be tied down to anyone. Let alone a _boy_, Spirits forbid. What with a heightened sense of maturity and more babysitting charges than she could handle, she had enough of children of all ages wanting to be coddled and tickled to death.

Besides, Hwoarang – he'd told her his name! – had agreed. They were young, not expected to participate in serial monogamy and having way too much fun to aspire to the conditions of married couples.

"Gather your troops and prepare to engage in battle!"

Take a piece of wood and a rubber-band. Once you have your sling-shot, take aim and fire. Dozens of graphite-stained erasers and sharpeners lay strewn on the floor after they'd collapsed on it in a fit of giggles. The art exhibition had ended two hours ago but the war had begun fifteen minutes into the last tedious hour spent cleaning after their previous mishaps. On a whim, he'd dabbed two fingers in terracotta red paint and swiped two thick horizontal lines on each of her cheeks. Very Tiger Lily, he'd mentioned as he stood back and viewed his creation. Very Peter Pan of him to try so, she'd retorted and patted his face with a golden yellow-painted palm.

So, the party was over, they were laughing like two junkies on their first high, not to mention relieved that neither had been thoughtless enough to MySpace the photos. But damn, that had been fun.

Yes, he was the cutest boy she'd ever laid eyes on when he laughed like he meant it.

No, she wasn't taking the bait.

~*~

Junior year in high school hadn't turned out the way he expected. Band practice, overdue homework assignments and one hell of a demanding girlfriend made sure that his schedule was crammed with time for everything except himself. Miharu was cute and she was great to hang out with if he felt up for a challenge. But lately, he'd been wondering if he should've kept more tabs on his romantic horoscope predictions. Julia was quite fond of that psychic gunk. If there was a way to analyze anyone, she was already into it. Enough so that her room was scattered with magazine clippings on the subject.

He never could have guessed that a girl could tell a guy wasn't that into her from the way he kissed. Then again, if that had been true, she would have dumped Jin after the first date. Kazama definitely had the tools but as for experience… hah, that was the ultimate equalizer. Rule of thumb number 125, never go out on a second date with a guy who's hooked up with the likes of wannabe jailbait – honestly, Xiaoyu, _pigtails_? – and a senior who could pass for a model in an S&M-themed photo-shoot.

Next to a killer ass-hugging pair of jeans, your best friend in high school was an equally deadly sense of humor. Someone pours ink over your friend's class-topping essay? Sneak the largest cockroach you can find into their salad, watch her grin when she hears them scream and you can be sure you'll have her dumping bleach on the next joker who runs a pair of scissors through your guitar strings.

"All's fair in love and war," she mused out loud one day. The hidden irony wasn't lost on him, considering that he'd just gone through a tearful (on Miharu's part) break-up. Oh well, more material for him to put into song.

Anyway, he preferred resting his head on Julia's shoulder on the rides back home. Miharu always had her cell-phone glued to her ear and she _hated _it when he sang _The Bad Touch _to grab her attention.

Julia rarely used her phone. And she'd long since given up on his taste in comedy.

He wasn't one to complain about that.

~*~

"Ready? One, two, three, GO!!"

They took off, skimming over jade green blades of grass until they flowed down below them. From then on, it was a race to see who'd beaten whom first. Julia had the brains and innovation; he had the resourcefulness and luck. When it came to winning, it was a pretty tight race as both of them had issues with crossing finishing-lines.

Today, hopefully, would bring clarity.

No battle-lines drawn this time around. They'd figure that out in due time.

"Hah! See?" She crouched and pointed to the paper plane in the grass. "Told you it was all in the folding! The sharper the nose, the less air friction it incurs."

A few inches ahead of him, as usual. The more he'd defied convention, the less extraordinary pushing the boundaries had felt. Thankfully, there was still some old routine left in her. Leftovers from those drama-free sophomore days when they'd been unafraid to do the things they loved as kids. Those days when they'd both been happy to float low over the ground until she'd decided that she wanted to see the stars.

"You win." He declared, unashamed. "You sure you wanna study archaeology instead of aviation?"

"Mm-hm." She nodded. "That's what I worked for. They wouldn't have given me that scholarship if I wasn't interested enough."

"I guess…"

This was the way things should be. She deserved to soar higher than he did.

There was only so far that he could reach.

"Julia."

She was listening.

"Promise me that you'll keep on flying. As a consolation prize." He let his smile hide the depth of the blue from knowing that she'd be leaving for college tomorrow morning.

"But you haven't even given me a victory gift."

"Huh?"

"Hwoarang," She grasped his roughened hands in hers. "I'll always keep flying. Promise you'll catch me if I fall though."

"I'll throw you right back up if you try that." Yet he reached out and clasped her hand in return. "That's a promise I can keep."

"I'll come down to visit… and I'll take you up there with me someday, I promise."

"No need," He bent down to hold her tight. "You already have."

* * *

_Was listening to: Anberlin's 'The Unwinding Cable Car', Stereophonics' 'Maybe Tomorrow', The Kooks' 'Naïve' and Creed's 'My Sacrifice'. Thanks for reading. And my apologies for the sappy ending._


End file.
